


when i wake up i’m afraid (somebody else might end up being me)

by ElasticElla



Category: Elementary (TV), Leverage
Genre: Crossover Pairings, F/F, Pre-Femslash, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 07:34:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20738570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticElla/pseuds/ElasticElla
Summary: She is good at slipping into and out of personas, can construct characters out of thin air and have their entire family horoscope and history down-pat before the first question even comes. No, there’s no need to be modest- sheisthe greatest grifter alive.And yet, faced with Detective Joan Watson and a three million dollar necklace in her clutch, she introduces herself as Sophie Devereaux.





	when i wake up i’m afraid (somebody else might end up being me)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Visardist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Visardist/gifts).

> title from the neighborhood's afraid

She is good at slipping into and out of personas, can construct characters out of thin air and have their entire family horoscope and history down-pat before the first question even comes. No, there’s no need to be modest- she _is_ the greatest grifter alive. 

And yet, faced with Detective Joan Watson and a three million dollar necklace in her clutch, she introduces herself as Sophie Devereaux. Not as the Natalie Crawford, jewelry inspector to the nouveau riche, on the guest list of New York’s latest widow. Crawford was a long con, two months of appraising tiny diamonds until this beauty fell into her lap. Two months of work to be tripped up by a pretty woman at her exit. Two months, and she uses the only bloody name that might link her crimes together- to a member of the law no less. Well, a consultant to the law. 

Honestly, she takes a little time off to discover herself and lands in this mess instead. At this rate, she’ll be fleeing the country by the end of the week. (She supposes she hasn’t checked on the Tokyo safe house in some time.)

What’s more worrying is it feels like she has become Sophie Devereaux, how easy it is to live in her skin. She’s buried aliases for less, but without Sophie, it feels like there’s nothing left. Lara is a stranger, a distant concept. She hasn’t even thought the name regularly in ages, finds it takes away from her authenticity- and isn’t that a laugh.

She hasn’t decided if she’s going to fence the jewelry, keep it, or heaven forbid, return it, so it goes into a safety deposit box. She foolishly thought doing a little heist for herself would clear matters up, but they only seem more murky. With a sigh, she heads back to the hotel, this evening calls for a long bath. 

.

Detective Joan Watson is sitting on her couch. There’s a panicked split-second as she mentally catalogs everything in the room again, but there’s nothing incriminating within. 

“Good afternoon Detective, to what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“I need your help,” Joan says bluntly, “I know you’re one of Sherlock’s irregular irregulars. He knows you as Christine Hilton.” 

She’s careful not to let any of the surprise or relief show, “I see, so you let yourself in.” 

There’s a hint of pink in her cheeks, as if she wasn’t fetching enough. “I had to be sure, it’s regarding a murder investigation.” 

And against her better judgment, she nods, “Would you care for a cup of tea?” 

.

She ends up playing a rich wanna-be widow, Heather Duvall, who is _very_ interested in learning all about the service Monsieur X provides. (Which obviously does not include interesting aliases.)

Joan is in her ear as he wines and dines her, speaking in rather weak code for all the traceless ways they can eliminate her husband. Heather indulges in each fantasy, discarding some, questioning others, can practically see the dollar signs in X’s eyes. 

“Got him,” Joan whispers after he mentions a convoluted plan involving a swimming pool and raccoon. 

Heather dismisses that one, saying she enjoys swimming too much, and X goes on to a cliched botched robbery. A few plans later, best not to be suspicious, she lets her eyes glimmer at a rabid dog, and says it would be karma. 

“I’ll give you a week,” he says at the end of the dinner. “And if you still want the pest gone, it shall be removed.” 

It’s an interesting policy, would be heartwarming if not for the business, and she wonders if it’s part of how Monsieur X has gone undetected for so long. 

X, real name Xavier O’Malley, another disappointment, is arrested within the week. Joan and her go out for celebratory cheesecake, and it’s almost a shame the necklace is burning a hole in her pocket, demanding to be used. It’s tempting to ask after Sherlock, but that he wasn’t on the case says enough. Perhaps she’s just looking for excuses to stay in Joan’s company longer, not that anyone could blame her. 

That alone is sufficient reason to leave. She acutely recalls how poorly her last romantic entanglement went, shouldn’t put the lovely doctor through that. 

.

There’s a note in the deposit box where the necklace once was, neatly inked letters. 

_Sorry about that. Buy you dinner? -Joan_

The laugh is all Lara, rather impressed with the detective. Perhaps she will stay in the city a bit longer.


End file.
